A Second Chance
by illustrium
Summary: Percy is beginning to understand how life really is for a mortal and may be regretting his choice to remain human. Will a visit from a mysterious being convince him to become a god?
1. Prologue: A Visitor

Percy Jackson and the Olympians does not in any way, shape, or form belong to me. This story adopted from Uvulaofdoom and changed with permission.

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Prologue

A Visitor

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For what seemed like the first time since the Battle against Kronos, Percy was alone. Blissfully alone. Laying cozily in front of the fire in the new apartment that he shared with his mom and occasionally, Paul, he appreciated this time just to breathe and gather himself; he knew this peace couldn't last... Eventually, someone somewhere would need the help of the great Percy Jackson, and he would feel obligated to do what he could. Even Annabeth had grown more distant; less a friend and more a colleague, and quite frankly, Percy couldn't find it within himself to care. That ship had sailed when she started rebuilding Olympus while he was stuck down here. Wait, what?

Indeed, even the day after the cataclysmic final battle, Percy had been cleaning up, fixing, saving, healing, sighing, tiring, getting angry, growing bitter... Woah. But it was true. Life wasn't quite as... Glorious as Percy had pictured it, standing before the Gods and making his "noble" choice. The teenager had assumed that peacetime meant... well, _peace_, but it seemed as if the opposite were true. Even if he now had a nice apartment, even if his mom and he now had some money, Percy couldn't help but picture what his life would have been had he chosen to become a god... Sometimes he thought about what he had turned down so thoughtlessly.

Even as the idea swept through his head, his instincts as a demigod, sensitive to certain energies, brought to his attention the presence of a being nearby. Suddenly, the air smelled of the ocean, of salt and sun and life and _power_, but this wasn't his father, it was something unimaginably older. _Before the_ _beginning of time_. Percy blinked. What? His hand went to Anaklusmos instinctively just as a voice sounded behind him. "Perseus Jackson," it said, and Percy spun, pointing his trusty sword... at a glass of water. "Perseus Jackson," the voice repeated, and the water vibrated with each syllable, "I know what it is that you seek... What's more, it can be granted to you." Percy's face belied the shock he felt inside, growing more stoic as the voice continued, speaking a rough, crashing language that Percy knew must be older than even Ancient Greek. "I know you have been rethinking... Regretting the choice you made on Olympus. Life as a mortal, their fleeting existence, it isn't what you thought it was going to be, is it?"

The... Being spoke truly, and though Percy knew not to trust what he couldn't see, he sensed no evil from the Voice, not like he had from Kronos and the other titans. The Voice felt like neutrality, like patience, but the greatest feeling behind the Voice was a need to be on top. He couldn't argue with what the it had said... Everything had seemed to wind down after the war; Annabeth, his friends, the missions, just life in general. How could this existence compare to that of a god?

"How do I know that I can trust you?" Percy asked. "What do I have to do?"

"You don't have to trust me," the Voice responded, and before Percy's amazed eyes, a thin strip of wood bearing archaic markings appeared. "But I think you will in time. For now, consider what you want in life. When you decide that you want what I have to offer, simply burn the piece of wood. The details can come later, but know that if you're with _me_ and mine, you're against _them_ and theirs. Gather your friends, Perseus Jackson, for a storm is coming." The Voice paused. "Farewell."

"Wait!" Percy cried. "What is your name?" A booming laugh sounded, water splashing from the cup.

"You may call me Ophion, and I am of the Ocean." Then, the room was silent, save for Percy's breathing, and Percy was fairly certain that he was alone.

(o)

**Author's Note: So, I picked up the idea for this story (I ummm... changed quite a bit of it) from my cousin who just posted a first chapter and then dropped it (facepalm). With him, it recieved fairly positive reviews, so if people seem to be enjoying this story I'll continue it and update as regularly as I can. The prologue is a bit short, but real chapters will be longer once they come.**

**Thanks! R&R!**


	2. A Messenger

Percy Jackson, quite remarkably, doesn't belong to me.

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Chapter One

A Messenger

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Two day had passed since the... incident. That was how Percy chose to refer to it in his head, and the thin strip of wood that he had been unable to dispose of, entranced by the offer it represented, was still in his pocket, just heavy enough to be a constant reminder of itself.

He was at camp, settling back into a routine of helping where he could and going where he was needed and_ ohmygodjustmakeitstop_. The boy found himself playing with the wood, pulling from his pocket just enough to see it, especially when there was a fire around. _Throw it in._

No, no! Guilt fell heavy on Percy's chest when he thought that. When he thought of all those that had sacrificed themselves to stop this type of thing from happening last time. And now, he was the one who would be the traitor? _Throw it in._

Night fell on the camp, the pale glow of moonlight casting just enough light to make it possible to see. The half-bloods were all gathered around a bonfire in the amphitheatre as Apollo cabin gave one of its famous sing-along concerts. Percy, however, didn't even notice the melodies; his gaze was stuck on the huge flame, burning in the center of the crowd. It flickered and danced in oranges and yellows, deep reds occasionally bursting through. To the crowd around him, it seemed the fire danced with the music, but for him, it pulsed with the beat of his heart.

_Tha-thump_. A flicker. _Tha-thump_. A flare of yellow. _Tha-thump_. A spark. An idea, a thought. _Throw it in_.

Somehow, the wood had found its way into his hands, it spun as he twisted it through his fingers, light from the flame revealing markings that not even his demigod brain could uncode. His hand faltered. It would be so easy. The fire was twenty feet away, an easy throw. He could be on his way to something great, and away from this.. nothingness. Percy's arm arched, muscles flexing, preparing. He was about to do it. His arm flexed forward, his hand releasing-

Blonde hair.

"Percy? Why are you standing?" The arm dropped, hand still clutching a strip of wood.

"No. Nothing. I'm fine, Annabeth. I- Just... Bathroom." He pushed past her, more roughly than he had intended in his rush to get away, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. _What was that? How could I be so selfish?_ He thought, covering his face with his hand. "I- I need some rest." Alone, in the moonlight, Percy walked back to his cabin. The conclusion of his adrenaline rush and the gentle splashes of his father's fountain lulled him to sleep as soon as his eyes closed...

A piece of wood in his hand.

(o)

The next morning, Percy awoke with a clear head for the first time since _it_ had happened. Still, when he set off for breakfast, there was something in his pocket.  
The bulk of the day passed without incident, save for Annabeth's glares, but given the lack of weird impulses and ancient deities, Percy could deal with that. Later, though, when Percy was training a group of the newer campers, he saw Chiron running as fast as his hooves would carry him and knew something was wrong. At that speed, dust exploding from the ground with every step, it only took Chiron a moment to reach the group and out of breath, he spoke.

"Percy! There's... _something_ happening. We don't what it is, but it might be your father. The ocean, Percy... It's boiling."

Percy, alarmed, put the cap back on his sword and took a shaky step back, remembering what the Being had said.

"_You may call me Ophion, and I am of the ocean_."

"H- Here?" He stammered.

"At least all around the island; we don't know what's happening anywhere else."

Running, Percy headed towards the nearest shore and saw, barring Kronos, probably the most terrifying thing in his life. Monsters were coming out of the ocean, pulling themselves onto the beach and leaving molten glass where they stepped. Monsters that seemed to be made entirely of lava. They were mildly humanoid, with arms and legs but no real head and stood at about seven feet tall. Most of the campers that had been on the beach were fleeing as quickly as they could, but a few, those that had been carrying their weapons or that had managed to grab one from someone else, stayed behind and looked like they were preparing for an attack.

As Percy finally arrived, sword in hand, one of the older campers ran up to attack a beast that had been grown to close. To his companions horror, it seemed as if his sword had melted as it cut through the beast, doing no damage. In retaliation, the monster slapped the boy's chest with an arm that was about a foot thick; club-shaped. A noise of sizzling came from the boy's now exposed, blackened chest.

"Oh, Gods," the boy, a sixteen year old son of Apollo, wept as he was collapsing. "Help me!" The group was too far away to do anything, though, and the beast fell onto the boy, literally_ fell_. When the beast stood up again, the group backing up steadily even though the rest of the camp had come in force, nothing was left of him. Some screamed, some began to cry, some just stood stock-still, but Chiron spoke loudly.

"Why are you here? Where are you from?" The beast that had destroyed the camper, now the only one moving since his comrades, numbering about twenty, had organized themselves into straight lines behind him, ignored Chiron and directed his faceless body towards Percy; the son of Poseidon now found himself standing a few feet from the army of campers, closest to the monster.

"You," it spoke, a mouth forming at the top of its chest. "My master has spoken to you. Three days have passed, so he has shown you a sample of his power. Will you not come? Will you not join us?" Before Percy, flustered, had a chance to speak, Chiron spoke.

"Percy? What is he talking about?" The boy turned, red as a beet, towards the crowd. He had told no one at camp about his experience, not even Chiron. B_ecause you want to do it, to join them_.

"Umm..." Percy didn't know what to say, but he felt a flare of anger at the looks the campers were giving him. Some had already become angry, weapons pointed at him; they had lost friends and family to the traitor Luke and would refuse to let that happen again if they had anything to say about it. Others were confused, looking between Chiron and Percy as if they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Annabeth stood at the front of the crowd, a look of horror dawning on her face; first Luke, her childhood friend, and now Percy. She had just decided for him. The flare of anger turned into a raging fire, and his hand slipped into his pocket to touch the strip of wood Ophion had given him. _They would doubt you so easily? After all you've done for them?_

"He isn't talking!" one person said.

"Just look at him!" Another weapon pointed at him. The wood was in his hand.

The crowd reacted, and soon was yelling despite Chiron's attempts to create calm. For the first time, Percy agreed wholeheartedly with the thoughts in his head. If this was their loyalty, then he didn't want it. "Fine!" The crowd hushed, listening for his answer. _Waiting to condemn you._

"This morning, I would've died for you all, but now... No, just no." Percy stepped back, towards the monster until he could feel its heat.

"Percy," it was Chiron. "Think about what you're doing."

"No!" An arrow that landed at his feet, a narrow miss, only served to strengthen his resolve. "I'm done!" Adrenaline was doing most of his talking now, anger fueling his thoughts. The monster's arm, now bearing a human hand, reached out, and Percy knew what it wanted. Annabeth's face, full of tears, was the last thing that Percy saw before he dropped the slab of wood in the beast's hand. The markings on the wood glowed fire-red before it burst into flame, and Percy's world exploded into darkness and wind on his back.

The son of Poseidon was falling.

(o)

**A/N: I told you it'd be longer, but I'm confused... No comments? Is it really that bad? You guys make me sad...**

**Thanks! R&R... Really, this time.**


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